by Bethany-Kris
A passing look at the sleeping baby in the incubator sent Demyan’s panic spinning out of control again. She was too tiny for him to hold. He would probably break her. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can, Demyan,” his father said. “She’s your daughter.”
“No, she’s so little. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“I understand your concern. Don’t be worried about her size,” the nurse said. “It’s extremely important for her to have skin-to-skin contact with someone, especially one of her parents. Right now, it’ll be even more beneficial for her to have it. She’s been out in the world for how long?”
Demyan blinked, unsure. “A few hours, maybe.”
Anton coughed. “About twelve, actually.”
Had that much time passed already?
Jeannie smiled sadly. “And she’s not felt her mother or father once. The world is not the same as where she spent the last few months growing and thriving. It’s much more frightening without some kind of familiar comfort. She’s heard your voice before. She’ll know who you are. The way you smell, how you sound, and the way your touch feels. It’s the best kind of love for a baby. She needs to feel you, okay. Please.”
Demyan couldn’t argue with that. He wasn’t allowed to see Gia, yet, for whatever reason. He could do this for Vera. “I can’t hold her. Not yet.”
“You don’t have to hold her to touch her. Let’s wash your hands and arms first.”
Under the nurse’s supervision and instruction, Demyan scrubbed his skin until it felt raw. The older lady spoke to his parents all the while, discussing Vera’s condition and the circumstances of her traumatic birth. Demyan almost felt as if he was watching the scene from above and not actually in the moment like he truly was.
Demyan waited as the nurse opened up the two portholes on the side of the incubator. She waved him over and explained that even just his hands on the baby’s skin could and would comfort her. She might seem like she was okay sleeping, but it was very likely she still knew things were different around her.
The moment Demyan’s palms lay flat to his daughter’s stomach and chest, pain saturated him from the inside out. Her skin felt brand new against his. Warm and soft. Vera didn’t stir. Demyan felt her chest rise rhythmically and her tiny heartbeat. Black eyelashes fluttered for a brief second, but she didn’t open her eyes.
His baby.
His beautiful, sweet baby.
Demyan’s knees hit the floor again. He was eye-level with the infant in the incubator. Resting his forehead against the hard plastic, he watched his daughter.
He cried for all that she wouldn’t have.
So hard.
• • •
Documents were passed over with more care than Demyan had ever seen paper be handled by. Ivan scribbled his name across several of the sheets before giving them back to the waiting nurse.
“You understand, Mr. Lavrov, that once the ventilator tube is removed and the—”
“I understand,” Ivan interrupted coolly.
Detached, Demyan felt his body float away again.
“For legal reasons, we have to explain it one last time.”
Ivan sighed shakily. Eva cried.
Demyan blinked, breathed, and clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn’t feel alive.
Odd how that worked. The woman he loved was brain dead only feet away, but she looked like she might feel more alive than he did.
Demyan had the hardest time to look at Gia’s prone form in the hospital bed, blankets tucked in tight around her thin frame. There was no blood staining her skin and the bandages wrapping the bullet wound she sustained to her left temple were hidden by her long hair. He knew some of her blonde hair had been shaved when they attempted to operate, but it was a section underneath.
Silently, he listened as the doctor went through the procedures one last time. “The machines keeping her lungs and heart alive will be stopped. When the monitor shows a flat line for a designated period, the time will be called for death and the leads monitoring her rhythms will officially be silenced and turned off.”
The room was too quiet.
In a short time, what life was left in Gia would be gone.
It already was, Demyan knew. There was no coming back from being brain dead. The life of an invalid, where she wouldn’t even be able to open her eyes, was not something Gia would ever want. Demyan didn’t want it for her, and neither did her parents.
It was heartbreaking and unfair, but it was best for her.
Demyan kept reminding himself of that. It didn’t help much.
Somehow, Demyan found himself staring at Gia while the nurse and doctor did one last check. The tube in her throat was removed and the leads monitoring her breathing turned off. Ivan and Eva stood on either side of the bed together, each holding one of Gia’s hands. Demyan couldn’t move, not even when Ivan asked him over. He was stuck. Invisible cement weighed him down.
Minutes passed, but not a lot. Demyan wasn’t sure how long it would take and the silence was so thick he couldn’t even force himself to ask. The tightness in his chest increased as he stared at the place where Gia’s wouldn’t rise. Maybe he thought something amazing would happen.
This life didn’t offer miracles.
Not for him.
When the monitor beeped, a flat red line crossing the screen, a crack made fissures across Demyan’s heart, shattering his soul. Every head in the room turned to look at him. His heartbreak hadn’t been silent. He wished to God it would have been, but it wasn’t. One, aching sorrow-filled cry escaped the confines of his mind.
“I’m so sorry,” Demyan whispered.
It wasn’t meant for the people still breathing.
• • •
Demyan sat on the edge of his double bed in his old room at his parents’ home. The darkness of the night saturated the space but for the light from the moon high in the sky reflecting through the window. Through the baby monitor, he listened to Vera’s gentle puffs of air making a soothing whooshing sound with every exhale.
Three weeks after her birth, she was cleared to go home. She passed the most important tests. Her hearing and vision seemed fine. Oxygen wasn’t needed as the level in her blood was perfect and she breathed without issue on her own. Her motor skills were on par with a newborn born a month and a half early, and if anything, she was at the same pace of a baby who wasn’t premature. Vera took to a bottle without trouble and didn’t seem to have any digestive problems.
They’d only been home three days.
Well, not really home as it was his parents’, but close enough. Demyan refused to go back to the apartment where Gia was killed. Hired movers were already contracted to remove the belongings from the place and move them to a home Demyan purchased a week earlier.
For now, he and Vera would stay where they were.
A knock on the opened bedroom door drew Demyan’s attention to where his father stood, somber and silent. “Yeah?”
“How’re you doing?”
“Fine,” Demyan said.
“Fine is a relatively useless term, Demyan. It’s not a real answer, especially in this situation.”
Okay, then.
“I feel like I don’t know how to breathe anymore. I keep wondering what the barrel of my gun tastes like. Which would be quicker, the bullet to my temple or one in my mouth?”
Anton frowned. “Are these thoughts I need to be concerned about or are they actions you wished you could take?”
Demyan waved at the blinking baby monitor whispering sounds. “Life won’t let me go.”
“Ivan wanted to know when would be a good time for Gia’s sisters to come and visit Vera.”
A flippant shrug fell from Demyan’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure what Gia’s family wanted from him, frankly. They could come and go as they pleased. His daughter was just as much their blood as his, but they kept assuming his permission was needed for their presence.
“Whenever they want.”
“I’m going to have to go before your mother does, you know,” Anton said offhandedly.
Demyan’s head jerked up, his confusion muddling up his thoughts. “What?”
“When we’re older and it’s time for one of us to go to wherever in the hell souls go when a person dies, I have to be the one to go first. I decided that a long time ago and whatever God is watching over us better make damn sure he takes me first. I won’t live on this earth without Viviana at my side. I don’t care if it’s tomorrow or in twenty more years. I know she’ll hurt with me gone, but she’s so much better than me—stronger. She could handle it. I need to go first.”
Demyan wasn’t sure what to say to that. His father didn’t give him the time to figure something out.
“But, I’m a selfish fuck like that and I always have been where your mother is concerned. I wouldn’t think about who it might hurt or the people left behind. I would just … go right after her like I was meant to. So, when you say you wonder what the barrel of your gun might taste like, you can trust that I know why you feel that way. I can’t empathize, but I understand. I love you and you’re my son; I would never want to put you in the ground, but I’m sorry Gia went first before you. Because I know, Demyan. I do.”
“She was mine,” Demyan whispered. “My one.”
“I know. It’s early, though, and you’re so raw, son. You’re young and—”
“Don’t. Christ, don’t even say what you’re about to say. Be honest. It’s not going to get better.”
“Not right now,” Anton replied at the same quiet level. “It takes time. I suppose you have to learn to live without her, too. Or find a way to that works for you. I know it’s not the same as what you’re going through, but shortly after you were born, I was grieving, too. For my father. The best relief for me was when I held you.”
“I’m not you.”
Anton nodded. “I know, and I certainly don’t expect you to be, either. But, your daughter needs you, Demyan. All of you, not just certain parts.”
The hardest thing for Demyan was when he held Vera. Staring down at her miniature features that matched her dead mother’s was suffocating. He did what he needed to for his daughter. He fed her, cared for her, and watched over her, but he was distant all the same. Depression was mentioned on more than one occasion.
Demyan brushed their comments off.
How the fuck could they possibly understand what was happening to him?
“And you need—”
Whatever his father was going to say was cut off by a high pitch wail echoing through the baby monitor. Demyan was on his feet in a second, moving past his father in the doorway, and opening the door directly across the hall. Vera quieted the moment she was in her father’s arms. He didn’t talk a lot to her because he didn’t know what to say. Many of the motions he went through to care for her felt robotic and learned from need and force of habit.
She needed more, he knew. Unconditional love. Doting attention. His entire focus and being. Demyan wasn’t sure how to give her those things being as damaged as he was.
For that, he was sorry.
Chapter Twelve
Ana
“Let’s end this off with you asking me a question for a change,” Sierra said.
Wariness settled in Ana. “What do you mean?”
Sierra was a demand of Ana’s mother that wasn’t up for discussion. Ana felt like she was doing fine, but sometimes the anxiety and anger jumped into her days without warning. Viviana suggested a therapist. Ana agreed to go. She had been having the twice weekly sessions for a month.
One of the first things she learned from Sierra was that Ana had been made a victim, but she had the choice to become a survivor.
“Well, it’s always me asking a question, you talking, me prompting again, and you talking more,” Sierra explained, shrugging. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. You’re talking, which is awesome. It shows you’re healing, moving forward. I want to end today off with you asking me something about you. Anything that relates to your immediate person and emotions. Whatever. Give me something.”
Ana blinked, dazed. Therapy was easy, as surprising as that was. Sierra’s simple request felt anything but. Sure, there were a lot of things she could ask the woman, but only one thing came to mind: Koldan.
“I like someone,” Ana said.
“This is news. You haven’t mentioned someone before.”
“Yeah. I liked him before the attack, too. A lot. He’s been with me every step of the way.”
“Has he hurt you or does he make you feel unsafe?”
“Never,” Ana murmured. “He makes me feel a lot of things, but never that. He took me out for dinner last week.”
“Oh?”
“It was nice and he didn’t treat me like I was made of spun glass. Everyone keeps acting like I’m a china doll ready to fall off the shelf and shatter. He doesn’t.”
“What was your question regarding him, Ana?” Sierra asked.
Heat pinked Ana’s cheeks. She forced herself to speak. “How long is normal for a woman to wait after her attack before she becomes sexually involved with someone?”
Sierra’s brow lifted. “You’re reacting physically to him.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Sure. He’s handsome, intelligent, kind of sarcastic when he’s in a mood, and he looks at me like I’m the most important thing to him at that moment in time. It’s disconcerting.”
Sierra laughed lightly. “Disconcerted isn’t how you really feel about it, huh?”
“No, I like it.”
“Ana, every rape survivor handles their attack and how they move forward from it in different ways. The length of time for one woman’s healing and ability to open up to a man in that way isn’t going to be the same as the next woman. There’s so many variables. Trust. Emotions. Partnership. Physical and emotional reactions to people and events. There has to come a time when you’re able to realize not every situation is going to end the way the attack did and recognizing not all men are your rapist.”
“Oh,” Ana said, feeling confused all over again.
“If you’re expecting me to tell you it’s okay for you to have a physical relationship with someone, I can’t do that, Ana. Only you know if you’re ready. I merely have your clues to go on.”
Was she? God, she wanted to be.
“Same time next week?” Sierra asked.
Ana nodded. “Absolutely.”
The drive to Ana’s parents’ home went quicker than she intended. Her apartment was closer to the university, but she stayed in Oceana to help Demyan with Vera. The house he bought still remained unlived in. Her brother didn’t ask her for the help, but Ana wanted to.
Ana dropped her keys into the glass bowl as she shrugged off her tweed coat. “Ma, you home?”
Her mother didn’t answer her call, but the man with her father walking around the corner leading to the kitchen stopped her heart in her chest. Koldan.
Ana still didn’t have the first clue why he had such a strange effect on her.
Koldan held out his hand for Anton to take. Her father did, offering a smile and nod in response. Then, Koldan was walking toward Ana as her father disappeared back into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Having a chat.”
Ana cocked a brow, curious. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Gotta get my ducks in a row, you know. No need to piss off a boss, even if he isn’t my boss.”
She didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Anyway,” Koldan said, reaching into the closet to pull his coat out. “I have to head out.”
“Are you coming back anytime soon?” Ana asked.
“Do you want me to?”
Ana felt no uncertainty. “You know I do.”
• • •
Grateful couldn’t adequately explain how Ana felt about her father installing the heated glass structure around their
in-ground pool. He kept it open for the first two years before he hired constructors to come in, design, and put up the building. It kept the bugs out in the summer and the heat in during the winter. The water maintained a warm temperature, as did the indoor space.
She wasn’t practicing, but she did need a good swim to relieve some of her stress. The session with her therapist yesterday and the question left hanging at the end was still nagging at her.
Ana dived into the water from the starting board, cutting across the surface and letting her thoughts drift away. What should have been one lap across the pool turned into four, then seven, and finally she stopped at eight. Her breaths came out in huffs as she rested along the edge of the pool. A burn settled in her worked muscles.
It didn’t take her long to realize she wasn’t alone in the pool house. A cool draft wafted across the water’s surface as if the door to the outside had been opened.
Ana turned in the water to find Koldan sitting in one of the many lounger chairs on the tiled floor. She didn’t even blink at his presence.
“Nobody was home,” he said before Ana could ask a thing. “I noticed the lights on for the pool house and came to check who was back here.”
“I think they took Vera to Gia’s parents for a visit.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“Late study group,” Ana replied. “I’m surprised Demyan went. He doesn’t go anywhere, now.”
“Demyan’s working,” Koldan said. “Just left him a while ago.”
Ana’s confusion jumped up a notch. “Demyan doesn’t have a job. He goes to school, but he doesn’t work.”
Well, he used to go to school. Ana didn’t have a clue what her brother was doing in that regard what with Vera and everything. He didn’t like to talk much. Ana didn’t push him to. They spent so many years growing up at one another’s throats. She didn’t want to do that anymore with her brother.
She loved Demyan. The best way for her to show him that was to be there for him in whatever way she could be. Helping him to take care of Vera. Leaving him alone when everyone else kept pushing him for more. Sitting quietly in a room with him so he didn’t have to feel alone.
